


The Prince's Sword

by Mizufae, psmithery



Series: The Prince [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 69, Alternate Universe, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Modern Era, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot, Porn, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizufae/pseuds/Mizufae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/psmithery/pseuds/psmithery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin discover an old video of Morgana's in the back of her wardrobe one Friday afternoon and decide to watch it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince's Sword

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for a prompt on the kinkme_merlin meme.
> 
> The porno sections of this are meant to be a bit of a parody of badly written porn and actual 80s gay porn. Please don't mistake vomitous turns of phrase as bad writing in the italicised sections. Also be aware that, as it is meant to be an American porno, the use of American spelling conventions in these sections is deliberate.
> 
>    
> Also available [here on livejournal](http://psmithery.livejournal.com/7654.html).

“So... what d’you wanna do?”

Merlin is one of those people who can sit about doing nothing for days and be perfectly content. Arthur, on the other hand, can’t sit still for twenty minutes at a time and has to be always doing things, going places. It is a mystery why they are best friends. Usually, it means they balance each other out a bit; Arthur gets Merlin outside when he’s at risk of drowning under a pile of books and crappy CDs and empty mugs of tea, and Merlin gets Arthur to chill the fuck down every once and a while. Sometimes though, it means they spend hours trying to work out what to do, without actually doing anything.

“I dunno. What about you?”

Arthur scratches the back of his head, propping his feet up on the desk in his bedroom. He’s still got half his uniform on, the dark grey slacks riding up at the ankles to show white sports socks underneath, and an old blue t-shirt which has worn thin from being washed too often. Most of his footy friends are out at someone else’s place now, drinking beer and watching crap on telly until it gets dark, but he and Merlin have done this for years and it’s not going to stop now that Arthur looks old enough to get into bars without being IDed.

“I dunno. D’you wanna watch something?”

They’ve had this same conversation every Friday for the past seven years. Sometimes they just mooch about in Arthur’s room, talking about school and the girls that Gwaine’s been banging and other mindless rubbish, and sometimes Arthur drags Merlin out to the garden and they kick a ball around, or they go downstairs and watch telly or play Guitar Hero. The words change, but it’s still the same conversation.

“Yeah, alright. What’ve you got?”

It’s usually at Arthur’s house. His dad works late and now that Morgana’s gone to uni, they have the place to themselves. If they go to Merlin’s, they just end up sitting in the kitchen, watching Hunith fuss about fixing dinner and eating an endless amount of chocolate biscuits. But there’s usually more to do at Arthur’s, so that’s where they go.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Movies. TV. Porn. Whatever.”

Merlin chuckles a bit, flopping back against the side of Arthur’s bed.

“Remember when we found your Dad’s porn stash?”

“Fuuuck, don’t remind me,” Arthur groans, covering his face with his hands, “gave me fucking nightmares for weeks.”

They drift into a companionable silence, which is only broken by their soft laughter and the distant sound of traffic on the street outside.

Arthur sits up all of a sudden, spinning around in his chair to face Merlin.

“Actually,” he says, with a wicked gleam in his eye, “that’s an idea.”

“I am not watching your Dad’s porn. That’s just fucked.”

“Nah man, Morgana’s porn.”

Merlin straightens up.

“Your sister has porn? Bullshit.”

“Nah, it’s true. I was moving some of her shit into her bedroom and found like a box of it in the back of her wardrobe.”

An incredulous smile breaks out of Merlin’s face.

“Seriously? Your sister watches porn? That’s... kinda hot, actually.”

Arthur’s expression drops.

“Shut the fuck up. Do not say that shit about my sister.”

Merlin laughs, chucking a balled-up pair of socks at Arthur’s head.

“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes. “So, what sort of stuff has she got?”

“I dunno, haven’t looked at any of it. Most of it’s pretty old too, on videos and stuff,” Arthur says. He cocks his head, “You want to watch one?”

“Yeah, alright,” Merlin says, still grinning.

“How about this one?” Arthur asks a little while later, his voice muffled by the coats and dresses still hanging in Morgana’s wardrobe. He straightens up, holding a blank video tape with a peeling label. It has _The Prince’s Sword_ written on it in block letters.

“Are you sure that’s a porno?” Merlin asks, sounding dubious.

“Are you serious? It’s called The Prince’s Sword, that’s clearly a porno name.”

“I don’t know man, it’s probably just some shitty movie from the eighties.”

“Yeah, because my sister would clearly keep a box of crap old movies hidden in the back of her wardrobe.”

“Alright, whatever. Put it on,” Merlin concedes. They traipse downstairs to the rumpus room, Arthur carrying an old TV with a built in video player which they took from Morgana’s room because he refused to watch porn sitting on his sister’s bed. The rumpus room is small and pokey, with no windows and a lumpy red couch in the middle of it. Arthur sets the TV down on the coffee table, plugging it in to a power board which he digs out from under a tangle of wires. The TV sparks to life, and Merlin turns off the light before settling down on the couch, kicking his shoes off and putting his feet on the table. The image is dull and it flickers a bit as the red warning message rolls over the screen.

“Jesus, this thing should be in a museum,” Merlin says, “I haven’t seen one of those in years”

They share a grin and settle back into the cushion, spreading their knees slightly as the film begins.

 _It opens on a shot of a large, stone-walled bedroom. There is an enormous four-poster bed in the middle of the room with purple satin sheets and long, burgundy drapes. A lean young man is on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. He has black hair, swept back off his forehead in the eighties style, and big blue eyes. His brown trousers are tight and high-waisted, belted under a blue shirt that is unlaced down to his navel._

“Hey,” Arthur says, “he sorta looks like you.”

“Piss off, Arthur,” Merlin shoves him a bit with his shoulder.

 _Another man walks in the room, this one dressed in plastic chain mail and knee-high leather boots. He is bulkier than the man on the floor, with shiny blond hair and a ridiculous looking crown perched on his head._

“Well if I’m the other guy, clearly this one is you,” says Merlin. Arthur gives him the finger.

 _The blond man stalks across the room until he is standing behind the man on the floor._

 _“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” he barks with an LA inflection, “You are my servant, and I told you to polish my sword.”_

 _The servant pauses in his scrubbing and looks over his shoulder at the prince. His eyes flicker down to the prince’s crotch and he licks his lips._

 _“Oh, I’ll polish your sword, sire,” he says huskily, turning around to face the prince._

Merlin glances over at Arthur, who is wearing an expression that is a cross between incredulity and horror. He presses his lips together to suppress a smirk.

 _The servant is now kneeling at the prince’s feet, reaching up for the laces of the prince’s trousers. He pulls them down, gasping softly when the prince’s cock, already erect and obscenely big, springs out towards his face. A slow electronic beat starts up as he opens his mouth and wraps his lips around it._

“- the fuck?” Arthur says, almost shouting as he sits up. Merlin can’t hold back anymore and he bursts out laughing.

“Your sister watches gay porn!” he crows, throwing his head back and shaking with mirth.

 _On screen, the servant is bobbing his head back and forth, his eyes shut and an expression of subservient bliss on his face._

 _“Yeah, suck my cock,” the prince growls, curling a hand into the servant’s hair and forcing his head forward._

“Fuck this,” Arthur says, starting to stand. Merlin grabs his arm.

“Nah man, leave it on,” he says, trying to keep a straight face, “I wanna watch.”

Arthur turns to him.

“You want to watch gay porn?”

Merlin shrugs.

“What the fuck man?” Arthur says, “You’re not a pillow biter.”

Merlin says nothing, shoulders still shaking.

“Wait, you’re not, are you?” Arthur looks wary, leaning away from him slightly.

“No,” Merlin giggles, “but come on, it’s pretty funny.”

“No, actually, it’s not. I don’t want to watch some guy get buggered.”

Merlin smirks at him.

“Why, you worried that you’ll get a boner?”

“Fuck you.”

 _The servant is moaning around the prince’s cock, working it faster now. His cheeks are hollowed out and he’s making a slurping noise as he sucks down to the base._

 _“Ungh, yeah,” the prince says, “yeah, that’s right. You love having my dick in your mouth, don’t you.”_

Arthur chuckles.

“Alright, fine! It is pretty funny. You weirdo.” He sits back again, shaking his head at the ridiculous dialogue.

 _The servant slides his mouth back to the head, licking it for a moment before diving at the prince’s balls, sucking them into his mouth like he can’t help himself. The prince grunts a bit, and the servant’s mouth slides off his balls with a pop, and he gasps, “you like that, sire?”_

 _“Polish my god damn sword,” the prince says again, pulling his servant’s face towards his groin so his cock slides over his cheek. The servant opens his mouth, wider this time, letting the prince hold his head and thrust into his mouth. The camera angle shifts to between the prince’s legs, facing up to show him fuck the servant’s mouth. The servant makes little choking noises and saliva dribbles over his chin._

“You have to admit,” says Arthur, eyeing the screen critically, “guys would probably give better head.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Merlin says. Arthur glances at him. Merlin shrugs, looking uncomfortable.

 _The servant slowly stands up, pulling his shirt over his head before reaching for the bottom of the prince’s plastic chain mail. That too is discarded and they press their hips together, the servant’s erection clearly visible under his thin trousers._

“It was Gwaine,” Merlin says eventually, trying to dispel some of the tension in the air. It crackles between them, in the furtive looks Arthur gives him, in the way Merlin doesn’t look back.

“Gwaine.” It doesn’t sound like a question, but Merlin nods anyway.

 _They begin kissing, open mouthed, the prince squeezing his servant’s ass and grinding against him._

“Last year, behind the pavilion after the cricket final,” he says, “Freya’d just broken up with me, and I was drunk, so he...”

Arthur hums in acknowledgement.

“I’m not gay,” Merlin says, “he just sucked me off. S’not like I asked him to, he just offered. Help a friend and all that.”

 _Their hands are roaming over bare chests and their tongues meet outside their mouths, curling around each other. It looks obscene._

Arthur exhales loudly and slumps lower on the couch, his legs spreading a little further apart. He puts his hands on his thighs.

“Was he any good?” he asks, quiet.

Merlin startles him by laughing aloud.

“Yeah, not bad. Better than Freya. She didn’t like doing it much.”

Arthur snorts.

“He’s probably done it before. He’s always been a bit of a slut.”

“Yeah.”

 _The slow beat of the music fills the room again. The servant is making little humming noises in the back of his throat as the prince palms his cock through his trousers. Their hips shift so that the prince’s cock slides between the servant’s legs and the servant’s dripping member rubs against his thigh._

“What about your girlfriends then?” Merlin asks, cutting through a growl from the prince. His hands are resting on his thighs now too.

“What about them?”

“Were any of ‘em good at giving head?”

Arthur runs a hand through his hair. When he puts his arm down, his hand rests a little higher on his thigh.

“Yeah, a couple I s’pose. Sophia really liked to, but I didn’t like it that much.”

Merlin grins.

“Too many teeth?”

“Nah, she was good at it, but she used to do shit,” Arthur says, shifting a little, “it was weird.”

 _The prince begins to slowly undo the servant’s trousers, pulling them down so their bare cocks meet in the space between them._

Merlin’s inhale is audible.

 _Still licking each other’s mouths, the prince and the servant begin rolling their hips so their dicks rub together. They murmur “yeah” and “fuck” and “hmmmm” against wet lips and pink tongues._

“What did she do?” Merlin asks, absently bringing his right hand up to rest against the crease of his hip.

 _The music changes as the camera pans up the prince’s legs. He’s lying down on the bed now and his servant’s head begins to bob into frame as he sucks the prince off again. From the way he’s positioned, he must be lying on top of the prince._

Arthur flicks his eyes to Merlin’s face, and then lower. He hesitantly raises his right hand and rests it casually over his own fly.

“She used to...” Arthur clears his throat, “she used to finger me at the same time. It felt good, but it was weird.”

“Oh,” Merlin says, squirming in his seat. His hand inadvertently brushes against his cock. He looks over at Arthur. His school pants are bunched a little around his hips, the fabric pinching up into rolls under his hand. Merlin eyes them carefully. Arthur’s hand shifts a centimetre or two.

 _The camera draws back to show a hastily retracting boom mic and the servant lying flush against the prince’s torso, his body a sinuous wave. Each time his lips slide up to the head of the prince’s dick, he pushes his hips down, feeding his own cock into the prince’s mouth. They aren’t speaking any more, but the air is heavy with groans and slippery, wet squelching sounds._

“That’s pretty hot, actually.” Merlin’s voice is a little deeper than it has been. Arthur’s not sure whether he’s referring to the porno or Sophia. He’s not sure if it matters. He swallows thickly.

“Yeah, it is.”

 _The prince has his hands clasped around the servant’s hips, guiding them in their circular motion. Every so often he lifts his head, sucking deeper. The servant always moans louder when he does that._

Arthur swallows again.

“It’s always the noises they make, don’t you think?” His eyes drift up to meet Merlin’s. Merlin nods jerkily. “S’not what they’re doing,” he continues, pressing his hand down and moving it deliberately back and forth, “It’s the sounds they make that... you know.”

Merlin’s eyes are boring into his.

“Yeah, yeah. Exactly.”

 _The prince pulls the servant’s ass up higher, and then down again and forward, so that it’s right in his face. He begins to lick._

Merlin tentatively reaches for the button on his jeans, pausing as if to ask permission. The air in the room is thick now, like there isn’t enough oxygen. Arthur slowly reaches for his own fly. With that, something seems to shift and they both unsteadily get to their feet, pushing their trousers down around their ankles and then off. As an afterthought, Arthur drags his t-shirt off and drops it on the floor. They sit back down, legs on the table, cupping themselves through their boxer-briefs with quiet, satisfied hums.

They’re silent for a while, splayed back and holding on to the warm bulges between their legs, content to let the sounds and images wash over them. The crackly tension is back now, stronger, but not unwelcome. It sparks off their shoulder blades and elbows and in the little gap of air where their knees are almost touching.

 _The noises the servant is making have changed, no longer exaggerated groans, but little sighs and whimpers. They are less affected, almost earnest as the prince tenses his tongue and starts to prod._

“Is he -?” Arthur asks, some unrecognisable emotion colouring his voice.

“Yeah... yeah, I think so.”

“Isn’t that a bit unhygienic?” The idea of it is pretty disgusting, he thinks, and it must feel incredibly invasive and he can’t help but fidget a bit. He cups himself more firmly, pushing down with the heel of his hand.

 _“Fuck, your asshole tastes amazing,” the prince groans, slurping and licking broad stripes up between his servant’s cheeks._

 _“Yeah? You like that?” the servant says, pushing his butt back against the prince’s face, “Come on, eat me out, yeah.”_

 _“Hmmm.”_

Arthur and Merlin break out into giddy giggles, both a little desperate and a little grateful for something to ease the tension.

 _The prince raises his forefinger, working it in to the dusky pucker under his mouth._

Their laughter cuts off abruptly. Neither of them really notices, but Arthur can hear Merlin breathing over the sound of the video. He ignores the sudden urge to look at him.

 _“Ahhh...”_

 _The servant’s cry is surprisingly strangled and heartfelt, wrung out against the inside of the prince’s thigh. He no longer has the presence of mind to keep sucking on the prince’s cock, but is helplessly mouthing at it, slowly pumping it with his right hand. When the camera pans back to his ass, the rhythmic contractions of his thighs are visible, the muscles clenching with each swipe of the prince’s tongue._

Something niggles in the back of Arthur’s mind. A question: why? Why this time, why now? What makes this time different? It’s not the porn, at least, he doesn’t think it is. He’s not paying all that much attention to it, to be honest. And it’s not that he’s getting off with Merlin – they are teenagers after all, it’s hardly the first time they’ve had a wank together. Back when they were 15, it was a standard part of their Friday afternoon tradition, so it doesn’t make sense for today to be any different from the dozens of times before. But it is. The... _something_ about today that makes it different is also making his skin itch, almost imperceptibly, and it makes him want to do more than cup himself. It makes him want to pull his pants down and get a proper grip, stroke himself or rub up against something to ease the pressure. Or maybe add to it, he’s not quite sure. He’s not sure about anything today.

 _The servant seems to regain some of his faculties when the prince stops rimming him and just uses his fingers. He reaches forward, dragging his own fingers along the skin behind the prince’s sac, and then lower, making the prince’s practiced grunts falter._

Merlin wonders wildly for a moment what noises Arthur made when Sophia went down on him. Would he sound like that? He spreads his legs a fraction wider and he can just feel the hair on Arthur’s leg scratch his knee. His has to keep his hand from closing around his cock, but it still makes aborted grips whenever he sees the servant push his finger in.

 _The shot changes again. Now the servant is on his back, head twisted awkwardly like he’s trying to bury his face in the pillows as the prince sucks his cock down to the base. With each bob forward, the prince thrusts his forefinger in between the servant’s legs, wringing exaggerated moans from him._

 _“Oh fuck, yeah,” the servant cries, “oh yeah, suck me - god you feel so good.”_

They don’t laugh this time. This time, the only sound is the rising crescendo of extravagant groans emanating from the television speakers.

 _“Fuuuuuuck.”_

The air is buzzing. It hums with an energy that makes it hard to breathe.

 _“Oh my – oh fuck – holy shit,”_

Sweat is trickling down Merlin’s back and pooling in his armpits and on the backs of his knees.

 _“Come on, yeah – fuck, you feel amazing.”_

Arthur makes the mistake of glancing over at Merlin and sees an expression that’s close to pain on his face. He’s biting his bottom lip so hard it is white under his front teeth and he seems to be shaking slightly. Arthur makes a noise. At least, he thinks he made it. He jerks his head back to the screen.

 _“I’m going to fuck you till you scream, boy,” the prince growls. He is smearing lube on his cock and he is kneeling behind the servant’s thighs. The servant has rolled over on his hands and knees, curving his back to present his ass._

Merlin gulps. He can see Arthur doing something in the corner of his eye. Small, repetitive movements with his right hand. He starts rubbing, he can’t help himself, short little grazes of his palm against the plump shape in his pants. A small voice in the back of his head is saying that he shouldn’t be doing this, he shou-

“Wow.”

Merlin looks up at Arthur and sees him staring at Merlin’s lap. At Merlin’s erection.

“Sorry, I just -” Arthur laughs a little breathlessly, “I never realised your knob was that big.”

Arthur reaches out a hand, maybe to measure it, maybe to... Merlin freezes as Arthur leans in, his thigh brushing against Merlin’s, his breath hitting Merlin’s shoulder and then the side of his face. He seems to realise what he’s doing a moment later and stops, hand hovering a few inches above Merlin’s. And then he lowers it. Lowers it onto Merlin’s hand, a hot, heavy weight against trembling fingers.

“Huh,” Arthur says, soft and a little shaky, “‘s bigger than mine, even.”

He moves to lift it then, very slowly, like Merlin is an animal that isn’t quite tame. His hand is about to lift off completely, but Merlin makes a noise and darts out his left hand, grabbing Arthur’s wrist and holding it.

“I’ll do you if you want,” he says, voice sounding strange in his ears, “I-I’ll do it if you do too.”

Arthur has always felt responsible for Merlin, as much, he supposes, as Merlin has felt responsible for him. It feels like a momentous decision that Merlin has just asked Arthur to make, something that should come as a surprise. But Arthur thinks back in the frozen moment, and decides that it really isn’t at all. Merlin always followed Arthur’s lead, when it came down to it, even if they bickered every step of the way. So without even really moving, he lets the weight of his hand settle back on top of Merlin’s again.

 _The prince kneels up, edging forward until he’s right behind the servant and grabs his hip in one hand. With the other, he takes his dick and, with surprising gentleness, pushes the head in between the servant’s cheeks. They both moan, and the prince thrusts in a little further, sinking deeper with short, bouncing jerks of his hips._

 _“Fuck, your ass is so fucking tight,” the prince groans when his balls brush up against the back of the servant’s thighs._

 _The servant only mewls in response, rolling his hips back. The prince chuckles. “You want me to fuck you?” he asks, smacking his hand down on the servant’s butt, who just whimpers again._

 _“Hmmm?”_

 _He’s holding the servant firmly in place, not letting his dick slide out, and the servant writhes and arches and makes pathetic little noises in the back of his throat._

 _“Fuck, look at you,” he says, “you want it don’t you? You want me to pound your ass.”_

 _He punctuates each sentence with a drive forward. He hasn’t released the servant’s hips, so it’s more a push than a real thrust, but it breaks whatever resolve the servant has left and he reaches for his cock, working it in short, hard strokes as he groans, “Oh god, fuck me – please – oh fuck, I want to – come on, shit – I need to feel it...”_

 _The prince, wearing a smug, possessive grin, pulls out and starts slamming his hips forward in a steady, ferocious rhythm._

Merlin hasn’t moved his hand out from under Arthur’s yet; he’s looking at the television with a completely blank expression in his eyes. So Arthur pushes his hand down a little harder, lets his fingers curl around until they just brush the soft, navy-blue cotton of Merlin’s pants. He seems to get the message then, starts pulling his hand out with an unsteady breath. It chokes off when he finally tugs free and Arthur closes around him. He can feel every fibre in the fabric separating his cock from Arthur’s palm and he stares, transfixed by the outline of his erection under this large, familiar, and very masculine hand.

Arthur doesn’t move, however, just rests his still hand on Merlin. It is nonchalant, almost absent, as if he’s not got less than a millimetre of cotton between his skin and another boy’s cock. Very gently, he nudges Merlin with his elbow – a gesture that quite clearly says, ‘come on.’

Merlin blinks slowly and lifts his arm, lets his fingers hover over Arthur’s lap. Blinks again. He can’t quite summon the courage to go for it like Arthur has, so he eventually settles his hand high on Arthur’s left thigh, with his fingers curving in to run along the soft skin. After yet another deep breath, he drags them up, until his palm slides over boxer-briefs and his pinkie knocks against a solid, unmistakable shape. It emits this _heat_ \- Merlin can feel it radiating against his little finger, and then it twitches.

Merlin’s head is swimming, half-formed thoughts skittering away like drops of water in a frying pan, because he’s hard and Arthur’s hand is over his cock and his hand is almost on Arthur’s and Jesus Christ he’s turned on and Arthur’s dick just moved again, by itself – it just got harder, and he must be going insane because for some reason it makes his mouth prickle and –

“Fuck,” he whispers and lifts his hips, just enough to press against Arthur’s hand, making his grip a little tighter. And then, because he instinctively understands the rules of this fucked-up game they’re playing, he carefully picks up his fingers and skims them along the growing curve of Arthur’s erection.

The sound Arthur makes is soft, but it cuts through the sleazy music and the grunty sex-noises, so Merlin does it again. And again, over and over until Arthur is mad with the sensation, squirming under Merlin’s meagre touches.

 _The servant hangs his head down and takes it, lets the prince slam into him with a rough “hnnngh, hnnngh, hnnngh.” The persistent tap of the prince’s balls against his ass beats out counterpoint to the synthesizer music._

 _“Fuck me – yeah – oh, oh god, harder! Fuck my dirty hole!”_

 _The prince’s face is pinched with strain, his sweaty hair is sticking to his skin, but he doesn’t stop his ruthless pace._

 _“You’re so fucking tight,” he grits out, “fuck, you’re - ”_

 _He falters for a second, buried inside the servant, tipping forward to rest his head against the servant’s back. The servant makes a noise of protest._

 _“Don’t – fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop,” he says, trying to shove his hips up as the prince pants against his slick back. “Come on, please! Oh god, claim my ass!”_

 _“See how good you are at doing your job when you put your mind to it?” the prince says, and slowly draws his dick out. It squelches against the wet muscle of the servant’s asshole as it clenches, trying to hold onto the throbbing rod._

Merlin doesn’t notice that he’s stopped moving until Arthur drags his hand up Merlin’s cock, snug around the shape of it.

“Oh!”

The sound pops out between Merlin’s lips as Arthur changes direction, sliding down in a long, deliberate stroke. Merlin clutches at Arthur’s cock, tugs it. Red blotches form on his cheeks as he flexes up, and the motion is jerky as he tries to resist the urge to rub his cock against Arthur’s palm.

 _The servant is flipped over, onto his back and his legs fall open to bracket the prince. He leans forward, catching the servant’s knees as he does and he thrusts his tongue out between his lips to lick the servant’s open mouth. The prince’s dick is a bare inch away from brushing his asshole._

Arthur’s skin feels too hot under Merlin’s hand, even through the cotton of his underpants, and he has goosebumps all down his bare chest. He is so vividly aware of all the places Merlin is touching him that they almost feel like a part of his own body. He can hear himself make stupid little noises, but he can’t stop them, they burst through his lips whenever he draws breath. He watches Merlin stare at the television and then back at his lap, at the shape of his own erection as it is outlined over and over by the motion of Arthur’s hand. More red blotches break out on his neck and under the edge of his shirt.

 _“Hold yourself open for me,” the prince commands, and the servant grabs his own calves and pulls them down until they frame his face. He puts his hands on the servant’s thighs, leaning on them, pushing them down even further and exposing the winking muscle. He shuffles forward and rolls his hips so that the fat head of his cock tags against it._

 _“Aaah!”_

 _The servant spasms when the prince drives into him again, his whole body seizing around him. The prince can’t fuck him as hard in this position, but they keep eye-contact now, neither of them even blinking as the prince thrusts his hips down._

Arthur can’t stop staring at the blush on Merlin’s face. The spots of colour spread out, merging like puddles of water, and he wants to see, _damn it_ , he wants to know where that creeping expanse of pink skin goes.

He licks his lips.

“Merlin,” he whispers, then swallows, “can you - can you take your shirt off?”

Merlin’s whole body tenses up and he stills. Arthur is still rubbing him in long, slow circles, but they falter for a moment when Merlin doesn’t start moving again. He turns to look at Arthur, though, with wide, frightened eyes.

 _“Oh fuck – fuck, I’m going to-” the prince cries as his thrusts lose their steady rhythm, becoming wild and frantic._

He tucks his bottom lip under his teeth with his tongue and holds it there while he searches Arthur’s face.

 _“Come on my face, yeah, come on my – Oh!”_

Arthur’s eyes flutter closed for a second and he shudders.

 _“Oh yeah, oh yeah-”_

Very slowly, Merlin slides his hand out from under Arthur’s arm and takes hold of the hem of his t-shirt. Arthur’s adam’s apple dips in his throat as he watches. Then, in a single, sudden movement, Merlin pulls it over his head and drops in over the arm of the couch. When he settles back again, the bare skin of his shoulder is flush against Arthur’s, cold with sweat, and he can feel the muscles working underneath it as Arthur’s hand works back and forth over Merlin’s cock.

 _The servant jolts as the prince pulls free again, and this time he scrambles forward, over the servant, until he’s kneeling above the servant’s chest, cock dripping in his own fist._

Merlin doesn’t notice that his hand is back in Arthur’s lap until he feels a damp spot beneath his fingers. He unconsciously rolls it under his fingertips and Arthur hisses.

 _The prince pumps his dick with two rough strokes of his hand before he jerks to a stop._

 _He lets out a throaty, “aaaaaggghh,” his body convulsing._

 _The first strands of his come land high on the servant’s left cheek, the next hits his chin._

Merlin stares fixedly at the screen, running his fingers over the damp spot, not hearing the breathless, “Jesus, fuck... Jesus,” that Arthur is panting against his neck.

 _Flecks of come cover the servant’s face and hair. He wipes a hand across his face and curls his tongue out, licking-_

“Do you think you’d ever do it again?” Arthur asks, his lips brushing Merlin’s throat and bringing his hips up so that Merlin’s fingers drag down his cock.

“Do what?”

“Let someone suck you off,” he says, “a guy.”

“I don’t – I don’t know,” Merlin says, “It’d depend – oh! – on who it was.”

Arthur clamps his teeth down over his next question. He’s too mindless with sensation and it would be too easy to let it slip out between gasps, between strokes of his hand down Merlin’s erection.

“Would you let someone?” Merlin asks then, turning back to Arthur. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide.

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough, “yeah, maybe.”

Arthur thinks he knows what Merlin is asking him, and he shies away from the thought, even as his head involuntarily fills with images of Merlin lips, Merlin’s mouth.

“Would – would you ever do it?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur says, quietly, almost a sob, but Merlin is insistent.

“Would you?” he asks again.

Merlin is squeezing his cock, making the dark patch bigger as he grinds his hand down.

“Oh fuck, yeah, maybe,” he pants, “God, Merlin – I need-”

But Merlin is already worming a hand under the elastic of Arthur’s pants, scrabbling over the skin of his groin, damp with sweat and pre-come. When he closes his hand around Arthur’s cock, Arthur groans, pitching forward and sinks his teeth into Merlin’s shoulder.

“Fuck. Fuck, Jesus – fuck,” Arthur is babbling, breathless against Merlin’s collarbone.

“Is that good?” Merlin sounds surprisingly unsure given how enthusiastically he had stuck his hands down Arthur’s pants. His grip is too loose, his movements too slow, but right now Arthur thinks if it were any better he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Yes,” he says, his voice strained, “yeah, that’s good, keep doing – yeah.”

 _The prince is still straddled over the servant, one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching back to finger himself. His hands are wet, glistening under the set lights and he pushes his hips back against the rocking of his hand._

“Arthur. Arthur, can...” Merlin grabs his wrist with his left hand, nudges Arthur’s fingers under the waistband of his pants, “please.”

 _Thick thighs clamp around the servant’s hips and the prince sinks back with a long, almost relieved sigh. Under him, the servant is shaking, clutching desperately at the purple satin bed sheets and the prince tilts forward to kiss him until he relaxes._

Arthur’s fingers graze the head of Merlin’s cock as his hand is guided under damp material.

“Please,” Merlin begs again and he reflexively tightens his grip on Arthur’s cock, squirming under the fleeting, inexpert touches of Arthur’s hand. They are both a bit clumsy by now, too dazed and nearly insensible; hands in each other’s laps, fingers coated in each other’s pre-come and Arthur isn’t sure if anything, except maybe Uther walking in on them, would be enough to make him let go.

 _The prince settles back down on the servant’s hips and then slowly lifts himself up, high enough that the ridge at the head of the servant’s cock is just visible at the rim of his asshole. His legs are still trembling from his first come, the muscles of his ass twitching at the emptying space inside him and he slides down again with a hiss. The servant’s whole body jerks, his hips bucking to meet the prince on his way down._

 _“Oh sire,” he says reverently, taking hold of the prince’s hips when he rolls them again, “you have a fucking sweet ass.”_

 _“Yeah?”_

 _“Fuck yeah. That’s right, ride my dick, come on.”_

 _Despite his shaking legs, the prince continues bouncing, up and down, up and down, his cock hitting the servant’s belly with an audible smack each time he lands. He rubs a hand over his abdomen and holds it there for a few moments as his insides milk his servant’s dick._

Merlin suddenly moans, shockingly loud, and throws his head back as his hips cant up into Arthur’s fist. It’s appallingly real and frightening, even more frightening than the frisson of arousal that shoots through Arthur’s body at the sound of it, because it strikes him then – he is one of three people on the planet who has seen Merlin like this, huffing and panting and crying out in pleasure. He’s not sure what that means – if it means anything, but the very idea fills him with a wild panic.

“Shit, Merlin,” he says, but he doesn’t continue – what can he say? Sure, they’re friends, helping each other out or whatever the fuck you call it, but it’s not supposed to feel like this. Guys aren’t supposed to enjoy this sort of thing. Not ever.

 _The servant kneads the muscles of the prince’s ass, spreads his cheeks to so that his asshole stretches wider. The prince keeps bouncing._

Arthur has never paid much attention to nipples before, but Merlin’s nipples aren’t like Sophia’s or Vivian’s, and he never did see Gwen’s, so he watches them instead of watching the television or looking at Merlin’s face or – god help him – at Merlin’s hands. They are small and pink, tight little points amid all that hot, red skin. The longer he looks at them, the more he wants to touch, because they are pert and interesting, and far safer than anywhere else he might touch. So he does, reaching awkwardly out with his left hand and rubs across one. It leaves a tingle in the pad of his thumb where it passes. Merlin shuffles closer.

“Arthur,” Merlin says as he rubs circles onto the head of Arthur’s cock with his fingers, “I think – oh god, you’re going to make me...”

He grabs the fabric of Arthur’s pants with his free hand and begins pulling them down. Arthur’s cock pops out from under the elastic, fat and ruddy in Merlin’s slim fingers. There are patches in his pubic hair that shine wetly from his pre-come.

“Oh fuck.” Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see, but the image is burned onto his retinas. He lifts his hips up, nowhere near as reluctant as he’d like to be, and lets Merlin drag his pants the rest of the way down. Once they fall to his ankles, Merlin works his own pants off, sucking air through his teeth when the waistband catches around his erection. Arthur has never seen an uncircumcised dick before, except once or twice in his biology textbook and a few glimpses in the changing rooms at school, but now he’s holding one – fucking holding it, and he can see pre-come pool in the ring of Merlin’s foreskin when he pushes it up over the head. An image flashes through his head, unbidden, of running his tongue under it, catching the liquid and curling it into his mouth. His chest heaves.

 _The servant’s fingers trace the rim of the prince’s asshole, where the skin is slick and stretched tight. The prince keeps grunting - it’s a coarse sound, base and animalistic and undeniably masculine. He seems to lose what’s left of his coordination then and the noises he makes start to crescendo once more._

 _This time his orgasm is almost silent, his body bending back in a curve, tighter and tighter, his mouth open, his face twisting into an ugly grimace as his dick kicks up and starts to spurt. There is less come this time, but wet spatters of it race up between his palms, which lie shaking on the servant’s chest. With a final, shuddering moan, his elbows give out and he slumps forward._

They can’t quite get into a rhythm. Arthur wanks tight and rough, whereas Merlin prefers to stroke languidly, twisting each time he brushes the crown of Arthur’s cock. Not that he’s being particularly languid now, panting damply into the air between them. Their forearms bump against each other on every second or third stroke, knocking them both out of time – a pointed reminder that Merlin is not under the duvet at home and Arthur does not have a hand braced against the tiles in his ridiculously large shower; that they are doing this together. It is a good thing, in some ways, because it is just enough to stop them getting swept away with the feel of it, and then leave them to face the reality of the whole afternoon. But they are also teenage boys, and Merlin’s balls feel full where they lay between his sweaty thighs.

 _The prince is shaking, still holding his own dick as it softens between their bellies and the servant’s hands run up the planes of his back while he catches his breath. The angle shifts and the servant’s legs are visible, pale and thin where they stretch out to frame the prince’s golden-skinned bottom. He levers himself up slowly, easing off the servant’s dick to collapse face first in the pillows. The dark shadow of his hole is stretched open, glistening._

“Look, what if I-” Merlin turns so he is facing Arthur side-on. He tucks his right leg under himself and shuffles closer. His knee digs into Arthur’s thigh.

“Here,” he continues, looming up and taking Arthur’s shoulder to urge him around, “now you twist a bit. Yeah. And use your left – yeah, t-that’s... _fuck_.”

Arthur takes Merlin’s cock again, in his left hand this time, and starts pumping in short, jerky strokes. It isn’t perfect, he hasn’t got the same dexterity with his left hand, which is making his movements a bit erratic, but Merlin is biting his lip again and under his lashes, his pupils are massive. There is a long triangle of flushed skin stretching down his chest, and Arthur imagines he can feel the heat radiating off it.

 _The servant looms up behind the prince again, grabs his hips and maneuvers him until his ass is in the air. He spreads the prince’s cheeks and pushes in with two fingers, stroking slowly. The prince whimpers into the pillows._

Arthur twitches and makes a desperate, high-pitched noise. Another drop of pre-come leaks from his cock and Merlin runs his thumb through it, fascinated.

 _In and out, in and out go the servant’s fingers, making little wet noises as they move._

The rhythm that Merlin has worked up is disrupted again as Arthur tugs on his balls, eyes fixed on the screen. He knows Arthur well enough to work out what it means, and the realisation makes his breath catch.

 _“You love my fucking dick in your ass, don’t you,” the servant says, now teasing his cock between the cleft of the prince’s cheeks. The head snags on the rim of his asshole, circling it for a second before he feeds it inside. “Fuck yeah, take it.”_

 _The servant drives home and the prince lifts his head, face twisting in pleasure, his blond hair darkened with sweat. The camera zooms in on the relentless strokes of the servant’s dick into the pliant ass of his prince, the screen full of wet, slapping flesh. “Yes! I’m close! Oh god - Sire! Oh!”_

 _The prince demands, “Come on my ass!” and the servant pulls out, immediately shooting long ropes of pearly come on the prince’s back and along his crack._

Merlin is about to fall forward, so he reaches out to steady himself on Arthur’s arm. He looks down to see his other hand wrapped around Arthur’s cock, the glistening head peaking out on every stroke. His fist is wet with Arthur’s pre-come, and he watches his own cock slide out between Arthur’s thick fingers. Their knuckles are almost brushing.

He’s pushed back, just a fraction, as Arthur’s other hand comes up between their bodies, his thumb rubbing in crescents, catching Merlin’s nipples as he sweeps his palm across his chest. It slides up to his shoulder, his neck, pulling them closer again.

 _The prince’s ass is dripping with the servant’s seed, down his crack and the insides of his thighs. The servant wrings the last drops from his cock, rubbing it in soothing strokes through his come. It sticks around the head and he scoops it up, coaxing it back into the prince’s still-open hole with his softening dick._

Arthur’s hands on his cock and his neck seem to double up the sensations skittering through him. “I don’t - ah -” Merlin’s the one babbling now, into the side of Arthur’s neck. Arthur keeps up the rhythm between them but Merlin’s stuttering, loosening his grip involuntarily.

“Come on Merlin,” he urges, tugging at the curly hair on the nape of Merlin’s neck. Their hands knock together as they move. Merlin feels hot, and he uncurls his hand from around Arthur’s bicep, brings it up to rest against his heaving chest.

 _“Clean me up,” the prince growls, still authoritative, even with his ass in the air. The servant takes handfuls of the prince’s muscular flesh and rubs the globes of his ass together, burying his nose in the come-covered skin. He groans and drags the flat of his pink tongue up the cleft of the prince’s ass, sucking his own come off with moist, lapping sounds._

Merlin feels the head of his cock tap something hot and sticky, and fuck, that’s Arthur’s cock against his own and their hands tangled between them and he can’t stop the overwhelming rush of it. His balls tighten up and he’s coming, flooding wet and warm onto Arthur’s hand and Arthur makes a desperate, amazed sound, as their frantic movements flick his come onto Arthur’s own cock and Merlin bends his head down to watch as it spatters between them.

Arthur comes with a grunt as Merlin’s teeth clamp down on the tendons of his neck. Merlin can feel Arthur’s dick pulsing in his hand and his nose is prickling with the smell of what they’ve been doing.

Their hands slow, the last drops of their come dribbling out while Arthur pants in his ear, his right hand finally relaxing at the back of Merlin’s neck. With a final, shuddering breath, he lets go of Merlin’s cock, and rests his hand against Merlin’s belly, feeling the flex of his diaphragm slowing under his sticky fingers.

Merlin is still mouthing at Arthur’s neck, his stubble rasping against his tongue. Everything is wet and quiet, their breaths the only sound, save for the soft whirring of the VCR. Arthur slides his hand around to Merlin’s back, holding him there as he finally releases his bite. They are almost nose-to-nose, but Merlin drops his head bashfully, letting his cheek rub against Arthur’s for a moment.

It seems perfectly natural to turn into it, run his nose over Merlin’s cheekbone, breathe in the warm smell of him. And Merlin’s lips drag along his jaw, which Arthur has never realised could feel quite so nice, and then his lips brush Merlin’s eyebrows so he parts them and lets his lower lip skim the delicate skin of Merlin’s eyelid.

The silence is shattered by the obnoxious ring of the telephone, making them jump, and Arthur’s chin bashes the bridge of Merlin’s nose. He extricates himself with some difficulty, all of the mess and their jumbled limbs tangling as he tries to stand, then stumbles and has to catch himself with a hand to Merlin’s bare thigh. Merlin flinches but doesn’t say a word, just rubs his nose with a messy hand.

The phone keeps ringing insistently as Arthur awkwardly steps into his pants - backwards, as it happens - and staggers out into the hall.

“Hello?” Arthur’s voice sounds scratchy, even from this distance, but Merlin hardly even registers it as he numbly picks up his t-shirt and wipes himself off.

“Sure. Merlin’s here. Can he-? Yeah, yes, okay.”

Merlin steps into his jeans and tucks himself in, zipping carefully because he can’t find his pants and he’s too dazed to care.

“Oh, I dunno, takeaway? Uh-huh, yeah. We’ll work something out.”

Merlin wanders out into the hall just as Arthur is hanging up.

“Nice pants, mate,” he says and Arthur jumps and looks down.

“Oh piss off! I was in a rush.”

They watch each other awkwardly from opposite ends of the hall. Merlin blows out a long breath.

“So. Er. I should probably... get... goi-” But Arthur cuts him off.

“I’m hungry! Are you hungry? I could eat a horse. I was thinking we could have chinese! Do you want chinese? There’s menus, I don’t have any cash but I bet they take my father’s card and - “

His eyes dart, not knowing where to land except definitely, _definitely_ not on Merlin’s chest, which still has streaks of drying come on it and those nipples, even more visible now against the pale skin of his torso.

“Let’s just have cheese sandwiches,” Merlin sounds resigned, but he grins at Arthur anyway. This part at least, is same as always.

“And you’re going to stay, right?” Arthur asks, even though Merlin stays every Friday when Uther works late, “I mean, you don’t have to or anything.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Someone has to keep you from scaring the neighbours.”

“Yes. Yes, excellent. Ummm...” Arthur looks down at himself and blushes, “I, er, should probably g-go and clean up.”

“I’ll just call Mum then.” Merlin can feel himself going red, knowing exactly what Arthur was thinking about, and tries to ignore the rising fear that they will never be able to look each other in the eye again without seeing themselves like this, all messy and half-dressed.

Fifteen minutes later, they are both back in the downstairs kitchen with its wide marble counter tops, Arthur buttering slices of bread while Merlin is digging about the cupboards by the stove for a frying pan. He appropriated one of Arthur’s t-shirts while he was talking to his mother - a bright yellow monstrosity with “ALOHA! I WENT TO HAWAII AND ALL I GOT YOU WAS THIS STUPID T-SHIRT” emblazoned across the front. It’s big enough that his collarbones are visible around the neck.

“Do you have all four cheeses?” he asks, setting a pan on the hob and lighting the gas.

“Don’t worry, Merlin, I know how you like it.”

Merlin nearly drops the knife he is holding, flushing to the tips of his ears as Arthur coughs indelicately. Merlin’s eyes flick down to Arthur’s neck.

“Yes. Gooey.” Merlin says, smirking when he sees Arthur blush again.

There is an awkward pause, and then Arthur says loudly, “Shall I put some music on?”

Merlin suggests Queen and Arthur finally rolls his eyes and throws a crust of bread at him.

“How’s this, _Mer_ lin,” he asks, holding out the stack of bread slices, “ _buttery_ enough for you?”

The sandwiches are probably what has kept Merlin around for this long in the first place, and they are as delicious as always, even if they eat them rather quickly.

They eat in front of the telly - the big screen this time, in the living room, watching re-runs of Top Gear. They are on different couches, but it’s not as awkward as it had been in the kitchen. At 9.30, Arthur gets up and stretches with great big sweeps of his arms, twisting his spine until it pops.

“Fuck, this is ridiculous, it’s only half-nine and I’m knackered.”

Merlin glances over at him, eyes lingering just above the collar of Arthur’s ratty blue t-shirt as he rolls his neck from side to side. He licks his lips.

“D’you want me to sleep down here tonight?”

“Don’t be stupid, Merlin,” Arthur replied, sounding genuinely surprised, “It’s not like I’m... Look, it’ll be fine.” Merlin smiles shyly at him and Arthur tries not to feel too relieved.

Only later, when Arthur is brushing his teeth does he notice the vivid purple mark on his neck where Merlin bit him. He stares at it until he dribbles toothpaste down his shirt.

Merlin returns from the bathroom wearing a pair of Arthur’s grey track suit bottoms and the stupid Hawaii shirt. Arthur is already in bed, and for once, he hasn’t put his spare pillow at the foot. Merlin pauses, but eventually climbs in next to him. It’s the first time they’ve not slept top-to-tail since they were twelve and went camping with a bunch of Arthur’s friends, and Percy informed them that guys don’t sleep next to each other unless they are “bloody poofs, mate.”

Arthur wakes up early, tries to will away his morning erection, but fails miserably because Merlin is asleep next to him, looking very gangly with his knees and elbows everywhere and a hand curled into the duvet. They had fallen asleep with their backs to one another, but Merlin had flipped around at some point during the night and was now gradually encroaching Arthur’s side of the mattress. Arthur should have expected it - he was always kicking him in the face in his sleep.

Merlin finally wakes, by which time he has buried his face into Arthur’s shoulder and his leg has hooked over Arthur’s calf, and Arthur lies very still as he yawns and stirs and slowly opens his eyes.

“Hmmmm, good morning,” Merlin mumbles, smiling up at him. “Wh’s time?”

Merlin has morning breath, which Arthur would like to find disgusting, but he can’t quite bring himself to move away.

“About a quarter to nine,” he says waggling his ankle against Merlin’s leg. Merlin folds in closer. “What d’you want for breakfast?”

“I dunno, sausages? What d’you got?”

FIN.

  



End file.
